All The Colors Of The Rainbow
by justawakingdream
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots based on a variety of Harry Potter characters from different eras and often vastly different backgrounds. Written for various Boot Camp challenges on HPFC.
1. Tell Me Something I Don't Know

**Author's Note: **Written for the Character Diversity Boot Camp challenge at HPFC. Anything you recognize is a creation of JK Rowling. Anything you don't is either based on her work or a creation of my own. 3

**Gobbledygook: Lorcan Scamander**

* * *

Twins were always closer than normal siblings, that was what people always said. That was certianly the case for Lorcan and Lysander. Born mere minutes apart, the two boys had been inseparable from the moment they'd come home in their parents' arms. They were alike in so many ways that only the closest of their family members could tell them apart, and Lorcan was quite fine with that. He knew there'd come a day that they'd want to go their separate ways and be their own people, but today wasn't that day. Instead, they were curled up in the backyard, poring over a book of some foreign language or another. Lorcan squinted at the symbols on the page, trying to make them fall into some pattern that he could understand or make sense of.

It was all gobbledygook to Lorcan, however, and he didn't think Lysander knew any better than he did. Then again, they both spent too much time with their noses buried in books – most of the things they talked about seemed like gobbledygook to the people around them. It was only fair that they'd eventually come up against something neither of them could understand. He doubted his twin would _admit_ that, but that was beside the point. **"Do you know what it says?"**

Lysander just scoffed as though Lorcan was silly for _not_ realizing what it said. **"Of course I do. It's **_**gobbledegook**_**. You should know that."** Lorcan knew better, though. Even at the age of ten and a half, he'd come across a few books that had sections on the goblin language, and that was _not _it.

"**No, it isn't.** **I ****_would_**** know that, if it was." **There was always just the _tiniest_ bit of resentment there, in the back of Lorcan's mind. Lysander was the more assertive of the two of them, whereas Lorcan was more likely to fade in to the shadows and not put up a fight. They were going to grow up into very, _very_ different people.

Only time would tell if that would create a rift between them and tear asunder the closer-than-close bond that the two had always shared. Lorcan really hoped that it didn't, because he couldn't picture a life without his twin.


	2. Practice Makes Perfect

**Gust: Angelina Johnson  
**

* * *

It was going to be the _perfect_ shot. Angelina could _feel_ it in her bones as she released the quaffle toward the left hoop, knowing that Oliver wouldn't have time to block it. It was only practice, of course, but not taking practice seriously meant that you wouldn't be ready when the situation really was serious and you had to pull out all the stops to beat the other team. Angelina had always been highly competitive by nature, and if she lost to the Slytherins _one more time_, she couldn't be held accountable for what she might do. She'd had just about enough of them throwing it in her face that they'd beaten the Gryffindors in the Quidditch cup the previous year.

This year was going to be different. This year, it was Gryffindor's time to shine. Angelina watched in satisfaction as the ball sailed toward the hoop, only for a badly-timed gust of wind to send it careening off the outer rim of the hoop. _Damn it_. She'd been sure that it was going to go in. She'd been sure that it was an easy goal - Oliver had barely had time to see it coming, let alone to stop it. And yet, one shift in the wind could change _everything_.

It just went to show that a girl couldn't leave anything to change. If she'd been closer when she'd made the shot, if she'd thrown the quaffle harder, so many _if_s ran through Angelina's mind. Oliver was just grinning at her like he'd just won the lottery.

**"Alright, lads. Good practice. We could use a bit of work, but at least I know Angelina's throwing harder than last year."**

At least _somebody_ thought she was improving. Any praise received from Oliver and her teammates only served to spur Angelina on, to make her want to work harder. Some day she was going to achieve great things, but that would never happen if she didn't put in the work now.

**"Don't worry, Wood. I'm working on it."** Every moment she could manage to find the qudditch pitch empty and didn't need to be sleeping, eating or in class, she was working on it. For the moment she didn't bother to correct him about the fact that there were three _females_ on his team, and that she certainly didn't like being called a _lad_. She'd approach him about that later for the hundredth time, after she was done replaying the shot in her mind to determine what she could have done differently.


	3. I Will Have My Revenge

**Author's Note: **Written for the Character Diversity Boot Camp challenge at HPFC. Anything you recognize is a creation of JK Rowling. Anything you don't is either based on her work or a creation of my own.

**Forgotten: Lord Voldemort**

* * *

They would pay dearly for this. All his loyal followers – where were they now? They had abandoned him when he had failed to kill the Potter boy. There were those who had remained faithful to him even after his fall from grace, but those few had been sentenced to lengthy terms in Azkaban. Most people would have been surprised that he would know that, but he knew far more than people gave him credit for.

If it were not for Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort knew that he could have claimed the world with ease. Who would have dared to stand in his way? There would have been a token resistance, of course, but the Order as it had been during the war would not have existed. Nobody else would have dared to put forth such organized defiance.

The man had ever been a thorn in his side. And now, to make matters even worse, he was glorified as a hero and practically a saint while Voldemort was left to wither away, forgotten and forsaken in the forests of Albania. He would have his revenge, however.

If it took decades, he _would_ have his revenge.


	4. A Case Of Mistaken Identity

**Author's Note: **Written for the Character Diversity Boot Camp challenge at HPFC. Anything you recognize is a creation of JK Rowling. Anything you don't is either based on her work or a creation of my own.

**Duplicate: Padma Patil**

* * *

Padma didn't know why she bothered to compete with Parvati. They were very different girls. Parvati was the more charismatic and outgoing one, while Padma was more bookish and introverted. Parvati's natural charm was impossible to duplicate, so Padma didn't try.

Imagine her surprise, then, when a tipsy Lavender brown corners her in a dimly lit hallway and kisses her. She kisses the other girl back for a brief moment, knowing that it must be the alcohol and her recent breakup with Ron Weasley driving her to this point. When they finally parted, the smile on Lavender's face was luminous.

**"I was a fool not to see it, Parvati. I ... I love you."**

Padma stared in numb shock as the words registered in her mind. She took a moment to compose herself, before she finally spoke.

**"****I'm afraid you've got the wrong twin."**

She'd never seen Lavender retreat so quickly in her life.


	5. What Was And What Could Have Been

**Author's Note: **Written for the Character Diversity Boot Camp challenge at HPFC. Anything you recognize is a creation of JK Rowling. Anything you don't is either based on her work or a creation of my own.

**Façade: Severus Snape**

* * *

Severus Snape had become a master at putting on a brave face for the rest of the world. So few of them ever saw through the composed façade he wore like armor. None of them realized that his heart had broken the night Lily died. It had taken him some time to find something to live for, but he'd finally found it.

Lily had a son, after all. A son with her eyes. A son she had been willing to _die_ for.

As much as he hated the idea of aiding or abetting Potter's son, he owed Lily this much. He hadn't been able to save her, but perhaps he could manage to protect her son. For all that had been, and for all that could have been, he would do this. He raised his tumbler of Firewhiskey to nobody in particular, mumbling under his breath.

**"To Lily."**

To the only woman he'd ever loved, and the only woman he ever _would_ love.


	6. The Chosen One

**Author's Note: **Written for the Character Diversity Boot Camp challenge at HPFC. Anything you recognize is a creation of JK Rowling. Anything you don't is either based on her work or a creation of my own.

**Acquaintances : Albus Potter**

* * *

Sometimes, people didn't realize how difficult it could be to be the son of _the_ Harry Potter. Albus had come to know quite intimately what it was like to live every moment of your life under public scrutiny. Nothing he did would ever be completely private, because for some reason people seemed to _care_ who he was and what he was up to. Even people he'd just met, mere casual acquaintances, scrambled to get on his good side when they realized who he was.

Most of them, anyway. He could think of a few exceptions, like his siblings. Lily was agreeable enough, but James was older and seemed to feel like he had something to prove at any given moment. Albus could understand the feeling, and so he didn't hold moments like this against his older brother.

**"Could you bring me over the milk, James?"**

****His brother raised one eyebrow and gave him a once-over.** "Get it yourself. Who do you think you are, the Chosen One?" **There was a tense moment of staring each other down before both boys laughed and any animosity was forgotten.


	7. Kiss Me

**Author's Note: **This was written for Lady Pheonix Fire Rose's OT3 Boot Camp Challenge, as well as the One Hour Boot Camp Challenge. The 3 characters I chose were Lucius/Narcissa/Rabastan. Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. Anything you don't is either based on her work or a creation of mine.

* * *

**Prompt 29: Kiss Me**

How much longer could they keep doing this? How much longer could they live this lie? Narcissa knew that Rabastan must surely be feeling the same thing. There was no way around it, of course – she was married to Lucius, and nothing was going to change that. She hadn't realized the younger Lestrange brother's feelings for her until it was far too late. He'd played them too close to the vest, and now they were in this terrible mess. What was she meant to do? She couldn't keep doing this, inviting him for tea while her husband was away at work. Somebody would see something less-than-innocent in that, and of course in this case they'd be absolutely correct.

Narcissa's hands shook slightly as she poured the tea, knowing that any minute he'd walk through the door. She heard footsteps heading her way and readied herself by the door, knowing that he would not want to waste a moment. This was all they had, after all – stolen moments while her husband was out. She knew that Lucius would be furious if he knew about them, and rightly so. The man was her husband, after all, and should have been able to expect her to be loyal to him.

How could she, though? He spent so much time out of the manor that she couldn't be certain that _he_ didn't have somebody else, as well. That certainly would have made all of this easier to swallow. She stepped aside as Rabastan enteredt the parlour, reaching out for her and sweeping her into his arms as though that was exactly where she was meant to be.

If only he knew the impact the stress of all this sneaking around had on her. It wasn't right, and it wasn't how things were meant to be, but she could think of no better way to do this. She was fond of Lucius, certainly, but he did not make her as _happy_ as she wished she could be. When she was with Rabastan, she felt much lighter. She felt as though she could drift away, in all honesty, and leave her cares far below her, as small as an ant from a distance.

Of course, life was rarely so easy.

"**You are late, Rabastan. I feared that you would not come at all."**

"**You did invite me, Cissa. It would have been rude of me not to."**

That in itself as a laughable thought. She had never known _Rabastan Lestrange_, of all people, to be concerned about rudeness or about what other people thought of him. He'd done terrible things in the Dark Lord's name, and he would likely go on to do even worse things. She sighed, instead choosing to focus on the pleasant, unique scent that he always carried with him and how warm she felt in his arms. There would be time to think about his less pleasant aspects later. He had never hurt her, after all. When they were younger he'd teased her relentlessly, of course, but that was just who he was. That was one of the reasons that she'd been so shocked when he'd confessed his affection for her. Granted once upon a time Narcissa had been a rather awkward-looking child, but she'd never met anybody who'd made her feel quite so unfortunate-looking and insignificant as Rabastan Lestrange had.

If only the eleven-year-old Narcissa Black could see her now.

"**I should think that being rude would be the least of your crimes, Mr. Lestrange."**

He seemed to visibly flinch at her statement. She knew he didn't like it when she called him by that name, but she occasionally called him by the moniker anyway so that he didn't feel _too_ complacent. The subject matter at hand likely didn't help, either. He hated the fact taht she knew his dark side as well as she did, but it was unavoidable. He and her husband were both Death Eaters, after all, though thankfully Lucius had been tarred with quite a different brush than the Lestrange brothers. Lucius was a man she could eventually see herself falling in love with, if she worked at it hard enough. He was a man she could _settle down_ and have children with.

For the meantime, however, Rabastan Lestrange was terribly exciting. He was everything that Lucius was not, and she'd always been drawn to him. She did not claim to _love _him, of course, but she was physically attracted to him in a way that she could not imagine being to Lucius. He was so cold that she simply _could not_ see him that way, not now. Rabastan was different – he was all passion and fire and (at times) dubious sanity. Her hands curled in the fabric of his shirt, drawing him in closer.

"**You know I don't like it when you call me that, Cissa."**

"**I do, but what are you going to do about it?"**

She couldn't even have imagined being so bold with Lucius. He would have quickly reminded her of her place, and of the fact that _she _was _his_ wife, and he was the master of the household. This was something quite different. Rabastan seemed intrigued when she displayed moments of boldness, rather than exasperated or outraged.

"**I'll have to take action, of course. You understand how it is. Do you have any suggestions?"** He was already pulling her in closer, his arms tightening around her waist as he leaned in. Her next words were little more than a whisper.

"**Kiss me." **

Rabastan, of course, was always all too happy to oblige. It wasn't until she heard the sound of a throat being cleared that she realized they were no longer alone. She pulled away slightly, turning her head toward the door only to be faced with her worst nightmare.

Lucius was here. Lucius had _seen _them, and the look on his face was positively murderous. She had never been afraid of her husband, but in that moment she was afraid. Not for herself, of course, but for Rabastan Lestrange.

"**Lucius ..."**

Lucius did not react to the words, instead staring down Rabastan Lestrange and moving farther into the room. **"****I trust you will provide some reasonable explanation for this."**

Narcissa knew that tone. If he did not, then she was certain that what followed would be very unpleasant for the youngest Lestrange.


	8. The Things We Do For Love

**Author's Note: **This was written for Lady Pheonix Fire Rose's Triad Diversity Boot Camp Challenge. The 3 characters involved are Lavender Brown/Padma Patil/Ron Weasley. Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. Anything you don't is either based on her work or a creation of mine.

* * *

**Prompt 24: Love is Stronger Than Hate**

If Padma had to put up with _one more moment_ of Lavender staring at Ron like some sort of kicked puppy, she was going to scream. No, worse – she was going to _tear her hair out_. Lavender wasn't somebody that most people would likely have thought that Padma would befriend, but they'd bonded the year before when Padma had been helping Lavender study for the OWLs and they had remained friends since. Granted, most of their 'friendship' revolved around Padma keeping the blonde girl on track and from failing out of school, but it was a better basis than some of the friendships around the school. At least it wasn't built on alcohol and partying and all manner of behaviour that wasn't allowed on campus.

"**Lavender, staring at him like that isn't going to make him change his mind. He's going to think you're some sort of stalker."**

Honestly, what _was_ Lavender's problem? Padma had gone on one ill-fated Date with Ron – to the Yule Ball – and she could say with some certainty that he was hardly worth Lavender's time. The blonde Gryffindor was a better person than most people gave her credit for. She was pretty, smarter than Padma had expected her to be, and she was one of the most warm and loving people Padma had met at the school. Certainly she was a bit silly sometimes and prone to flights of fancy, but nobody could be perfect.

Padma certainly wasn't.

"**I know, but I can't ****_help_**** it. How can he just sit there and pretend not to ****_notice me_****?"**

What was she supposed to say to that? She knew that at the moment Lavender was upset and feeling down and likely hated Ron Weasley just a little bit. She glanced over at the table he was sitting at with his friends. In all honesty, he didn't seem to notice _anything_ in the world but the two people he was sitting with and the book they were poring over.

"**Perhaps he really ****_doesn't_**** notice you. The three of them do look rather entranced by whatever they're reading."**

That didn't help matters as much as Padma thought it might. On the contrary, Lavender seemed to take it as a personal affront that she wasn't _interesting _enough to be able to pull her ex-boyfriend's attention away from some boring old book.

"**I'll bet he'd notice if I was ****_Hermione Granger_****. Honestly, I can't believe I thought I was in love with him. I ****_despise _****him."**

That was better than outright hating him, at least, Padma mused. She wasn't sure exactly what Lavender expected her to say or do, in this situation. She certainly wasn't going to get up from the table and go over to tell Ron that Lavender missed him and wanted his attention. He didn't deserve her, quite frankly. Padma wasn't sure who _did_, but it certainly wasn't the Weasley boy. Padma had grown quite fond of Lavender in the last year, and she'd seen disaster coming for a while now. She hadn't said anything, of course – how could she? It was impossible to tell your best friend that her boyfriend just wasn't that into her and not get into a fight about it.

That wasn't what she'd wanted. She didn't want to fight with Lavender, and she certainly didn't want to lose a friend over her meddling. **"Just remember, Lavender – a month ago, you were in love with him. I know you might think you hate him now, but love is stronger than hate. Eventually, maybe you two could be friends?"**

Lavender just huffed and flopped face-down against the table. **"I don't **_**want**_** to be friends," **she answered. At least, Padma _thought_ that was what she'd said, given the fact that her voice had been muffled by a textbook. The Ravenclaw sighed, gritting her teeth and praying to some higher power to grant her the patience to deal with this. What else could she do?

"**Lavender Brown, you are ****_supposed_**** to be studying Advanced Herbology. Instead, you're obsessing over a silly boy who isn't smart enough to see how lovely you are. Do you ****_want_**** to fail your NEWT?"** Padma had had quite enough of this ridiculous behaviour, and perhaps it was time that she said so. Lavender pushed herself back up, wide blue eyes blinking in surprise. That had been the goal, in the end – to surprise her into action and to convince her to apply herself to something else. She sighed, reaching out and tucking a runaway strand of blonde hair behind her friend's ear. Lavender was nearly in tears at this point. Honestly, if _this _was what having a boyfriend reduced you to, Padma would be quite happy to never have one.

"**I'm sorry, Padma, it's just so ****_hard_**** to focus."**

"**It will get easier. You just have to work at it."**

Lavender sighed and cast her gaze toward Ron and his friends again for a moment, before finally settling down and turning her attention to the textbooks in front of her. Once she actually managed to settle down and apply herself, Padma could honestly find no fault with Lavender's work. She was a smart girl, just easily distracted and lacking in discipline. Lavender didn't even glance at the door as Ron left, which Padma took to be an encouraging sign.

A couple hours later when they'd finished reviewing all the material, Lavender finally glanced back at the table he'd been sitting at only to find it empty. Padma smiled as she started to pack her books away.

"**I told you it would get easier."**

Lavender just shrugged the words off and followed suit, stowing her books in her back. She seemed happier, though, and definitely less gloomy than when she'd first showed up in the library that day. Perhaps she wouldn't remember all the Herbology material perfectly, but at least they'd managed to accomplish something today. Lavender knew that if she tried hard enough, she could take her mind of her negative emotions for a little while and find some semblance of happiness. She watched the blonde girl leave, picking up her bag and heading for the door as well.

Maybe she'd been right, and love really was stronger than hate.


End file.
